Middle of the Night
by Halfcent
Summary: Two of the pack have been taken. Their friends are looking for them but it's up to them to survive until then - or die trying.
1. Chapter 1

They came in the middle of the night.

Scott would reflect later on the irony of the situation. Everything they had been through in the past year and a half, of all the supernatural creatures and strange phenomenon they've had to protect themselves from, the one creature Scott didn't take enough precautions against was humans.

Even at his most vulnerable Scott was not an easy target. Being a True Alpha had some to do with it, though not exclusively. He still had plenty to learn about his ever-evolving abilities and sometimes that hampered him almost as much as his present abilities helped him. What made Scott a harder target was that he rarely felt safe. He'd been hunted, threatened too many times by too many creatures. He'd worried about what was in the dark one too many times to not know that there was always more there, unheard and unseen. He knew his own strength and knew that as strong as he felt, however powerful he could be, there were things that existed that were much more powerful. This gave him an edge; he knew not to get complacent. He knew to never assume that because there was no immediate threat that meant there wasn't one waiting for the right moment.

He was well acquainted with the sinking of his heart, the quiver in his stomach, when he heard of some horrible thing on the news. A murder. A mysterious happening. Something unable to be easily explained. There was always that moment of tension and taut nerves until he knew that it was not a supernatural occurrence, that some new enemy had not materialized to endanger his life or the lives of his friends, or that would require him to protect Beacon Hills yet again. There would be more of it. It would happen again, of that Scott was sure. There was absolutely going to be a next time. He'd sworn to protect the town to the best of his ability and he was not going to step down just because he was sometimes afraid. Scott was learning that being brave didn't mean the absence of fear. Being brave meant doing what was necessary in spite of the fear.

The edge that fear gave him had weaknesses and any good enemy would know that.

When they came for Scott, he could have fought. They were human, if heavily armed. He might have had a chance, and the rage he felt just knowing that these people had entered his home, his one safe place...that might have helped.

But they knew his weaknesses, and his biggest one was sleeping two doors away, oblivious to the danger to her son. Melissa had no idea that armed strangers had entered her home, easily crossing the supernatural barriers they never failed to activate. Melissa had no idea that her life was in peril if her teenage son did not let these savage people, those who's inhumanity came solely from being human, overpower him. Melissa would not know until morning rose that Scott had been quietly but brutally beaten and electrocuted into unconsciousness and carried out of their home. She had no way to know that he had stood still and let it happen under the threat that to resist would mean her death.

All Melissa McCall knew when she saw her son's room, when she saw that he was missing, that his bed was mussed and blood was gorily evident, was that something was very, very wrong.


	2. Chapter 2

Stiles stood in Scott's bedroom and stared at the only obvious evidence that Scott had been taken by force.

Blood. Not so much that it would put a healthy werewolf in too much danger. Probably. But enough that it was concerning to see. Otherwise, the room was untouched, at least by the destruction that wasn't created by teenage boys. The bed was disarranged, the blankets half on the floor, making it obvious that Scott's sleep had been interrupted. There were a few pieces of clothing strewn about but that was fairly normal, nothing to give Stiles a clue about his best friend's whereabouts. No broken furniture to indicate a fight, nothing out of place in any manner to suggest a real struggle.

Stiles knew this already because he'd inspected the room from corner to corner four times, and every time he came right back to the one thing that might tell him anything. The blood.

There was a central pool of it, with two half-moon patterns. It had taken Stiles only a few minutes to figure out what those patterns impressed into the blood-soaked carpet could be. It was a void that could have been created only by the indents of Scott's knees as the blood pooled around them. Scott had been kneeling while he'd lost blood.

There were also a few spatters on the window sill near the bed and the lower wall under the window. Also on the bedding, barely two feet away from the saturated pool in the carpet. Whatever had happened there had happened painfully.

That spot was going to be forever ruined for Stiles. In this house that had been like his second home, in this bedroom that he'd spent as much time in as his own, he knew every inch. He'd sprawled and wrestled and played and slept over every inch of the bedroom. He remembered sitting in that very spot countless times to play Spider-Man vs. He-Man action figures with Scott when they were eight. He remembered throwing his sleeping bag over that spot every time Melissa finally forced them to close their eyes and sleep.

Now that spot was tarnished. It was full of his friend's blood and pain.

Stiles could hear his father in the hall consoling Melissa. His father spoke evenly of calling his men and beginning a search. It was what one did for a missing person.

But this wasn't just a missing person. This was Scott. This was Stiles' best friend. His brother.

And he wasn't just a teenage boy. It was time to make a call of his own.

In the hall, the sheriff raised his cell phone to his ear at the same moment that Stiles hit one of his speed-dials and raised his own cell. Their eyes met through the doorway and held for several seconds. It was a testament to how accustomed Stiles' dad was becoming with Beacon Hills supernatural underbelly that his only acknowledgment was a resigned nod before he turned his attention to whoever answered his call.

They both had a cavalry and they both knew which one would probably be the more successful.

* * *

"I swear to God I'm going to kill him when I see him," Stiles fumed when his call went unanswered once again. Pushing the END CALL icon on his touch screen just wasn't enough to express his anger and agitation. His cell phone clattered as he set it down unnecessarily hard on the table top.

"Does he make a habit of ignoring calls or staying out of contact?" Derek asked.

"I'm sure he's just out for a run or something," Mason suggested unconvincingly.

"Have you tried calling his parents?" Lydia asked Mason.

Mason hesitated before answering. "Yes...Dr. Geyer says he hasn't seen Liam today. He was called to the hospital around four AM. He left a note for Liam but hasn't been home yet. His mom is out of town visiting her sister. Do you know how hard it is to ask parents if they've seen their kid without making them panic, by the way? It's not easy."

Mason's complaint went ignored.

"We can do this without him, then," Malia stated. She was clearly losing patience. "We're wasting time."

"Do what?" Kira asked softly, helplessly. "We don't even know where he is or what's happened to him yet. What is there to do? What _can_ we do?"

"Find out," Lydia supplied simply. "Like you said. We can't help Scott until we find him, so that's our first step. Find him, or at least get an idea of where he might be."

"Has your dad gotten anything yet?" Derek directed his question to Stiles.

"Not last time I talked to him. I'll give him another call."

"We can probably track his scent from his bedroom," Malia suggested.

"That's plan A," Stiles confirmed. "Dad wanted us to wait until his officers were done at the scene..." he faltered a bit "...I mean Scott's house," he amended softly. He pulled in a shaky breath, fighting for control of his emotions. Lydia watched him with concern shining from her own eyes while the others pretended not to notice that Stiles was barely holding back panic. "That could take forever, though," he continued when he recovered. "I'll see if he has any info for us yet."

Mason licked his lips as Stiles called the sheriff. "Guys, I don't think you need me if you're gonna track him, right?"

"You have something else in mind?" Derek asked.

Liam looked at Derek nervously while Derek stared back impassively, waiting. The two didn't know each other well, having only recently become acquainted. Mason's fascination with his discovery of werewolves was constantly at odds with natural apprehension and Derek Hale definitely brought out more of the latter in Mason.

"I think I should go to Liam's house," Mason suggested. "I don't know why he's not answering and he doesn't ignore my calls or texts. Maybe something's up. Or if not, maybe he left a note or something for his dad." Mason didn't have to tell anyone he was beginning to worry about his own best friend. It was easy to detect in his words.

"I'll go with you," Kira offered. Mason nodded in acceptance. "I've got my mom's car," she said to Mason, "and it will make me feel more useful than following you guys around while you see if you can sniff him out," the Kitsune continued, directing her last comment to Derek and Malia. "Just make sure you call if you find anything, okay?"

"No useful information," Stiles informed them as he slipped his phone into his back pocket. "Dad is still there with Melissa but there's only one deputy there at the moment. He says he can keep her busy for a few minutes if we can be discreet around the area."

"It's a plan, then," Lydia announced as she stood. "Let's go."

With little left to say given their current lack of information, the friends dispersed.


	3. Chapter 3

Scent was the first awareness. Before Scott opened his eyes, before his brain could make sense of anything he might hear, before he registered what the hard surface under his back could be, scent was the first to kick in and begin sorting things into some kind of sense.

The very first thing that came to him was the dank quality of his surroundings. A combined odor of dampness and mustiness was almost overwhelmingly pervasive before he managed to dial it back. Once he had the suddenly awakened sense under control, he was able to detect other things, like a scent similar to the streets after a rain. Somehow that odor, while usually pleasant to him, added to the staleness instead. Immediately on the heels of that was the familiar scent of someone known to him but in his state of just-waking, Scott couldn't place it.

This awakening took seconds and before he'd processed everything his nose was telling him, the rest of his body followed suit. His eyes fought to open, sluggish in a way he'd hardly experienced since before the bite that changed his life. When the slits of his eyelids widened, he stared up at the crisscross of iron bars. Far above that, a shadowy ceiling. The light was thin, faded and shadowed. The dimness was such that he might not be able to see much at all without his enhanced wolf-sight.

His body was stiff but it was a stiffness that would be quickly relieved when he moved around and he turned his head slowly, expecting the sharp pain in his neck that flared up for a moment. His eyes caught movement in a corner and he stilled, peering with a predator's gaze until his brain caught up with what his senses were telling him.

Scott sat up quickly then, his stiffness already fading with unnatural speed.

"Liam?" Scott called, though there was no doubt.

The figure moved, angling from the shadows, and relief was evident in the younger boy's face when Scott stood up. Liam leaped to his feet.

"Scott! Thank God. I couldn't wake you up!"

"Well I'm awake now," he said unnecessarily. He tactfully chose not to comment on what looked suspiciously like the tracks of tears on Liam's dusty face. The younger boy was dressed only in shorts and a dark T-shirt, his feet clad in filthy socks that had probably been white not too long ago.

"You looked pretty bad. I didn't know what they'd done to you."

Following Liam's glance, Scott looked down at himself to see that he was wearing sweatpants but his feet and torso were bare. He was still dressed as he had been when he'd gone to bed, as Liam obviously was. The only tell-tale signs that anything was amiss was the sticky dried blood on one entire side of his head, pulling uncomfortably at his hair, and the streaks of blood decorating his chest and stomach and, he realized when he licked his lips, probably his face. The last signs of what had been a beating. He recalled, in flashes, bits and pieces of what had caused the faded injuries and winced in remembered agony. There was also a residual ache in the middle of his chest where he suddenly remembered being repeatedly shocked with an electric prod. That was what had ultimately caused his unconsciousness.

"I'm okay now," Scott assured Liam. "Where are we?"

Liam shook his head. "I don't know. I woke up here, like you. I haven't seen anyone."

"I can smell them though," Scott said, inhaling. Liam followed his example and his brow wrinkled as he caught scents he didn't know how to identify. Scott gave him an encouraging nod. "There are more people here, and close by. And other werewolves, too," he continued.

Scott looked around to discover that he and Liam were enclosed in what looked like nothing more than a cage. Three feet above his head were the iron bars he had first seen upon waking, and the same iron bars enclosed them on all four sides, the bottoms of which were embedded in the concrete floor. It defined a space of approximately fifteen by fifteen if he was guessing accurately.

Looking beyond the bars, trying to get an idea of their surroundings, it appeared to Scott that their cage was in a larger enclosed space, dusty with misuse. An old warehouse, maybe, or a factory of some sort. Despite the scents of others, he could neither see nor hear anyone else within their proximity.

He wondered how long he'd been out but it was impossible to tell what time of day or night it might through the filth-streaked windows far above. Many of them were broken but no light entered and he couldn't see the sky from the corner in which their cell was positioned.

On a whim, Scott strode forward to one corner of their enclosure and bent down, inspecting where the iron embedded the floor. He reached out, intending to test the hold the concrete had on the bars.

"Scott, wait!"

Scott paused at the warning and looked back at Liam expectantly.

"I think it's electrified," the younger werewolf explained. "I looked around after I woke up. Look."

Scott's eyes followed Liam's pointing finger to a corner at the top of the cage. There were cables and wires wrapped around the bars in no order Scott could make sense of, trailing off into the gloom. Peering closer and following them with his eyes, Scott saw that the wires wound their way into a metal box several feet away that was mounted on a concrete wall just beyond the bars of their cell.

"Did you try it?" Scott asked. He looked back at Liam just in time to catch his incredulous expression.

"No, I didn't try it," Liam scoffed. "I'm not exactly aching to fry myself."

Scott nodded. He hadn't really expected Liam to have done so. He figured he should test it himself, just in case. Maybe.

He eyed the bars and the cables dubiously and decided that under the circumstances he needed to know how strong their confinement was.

"Maybe it's a bluff," he suggested to Liam uncertainly. Liam didn't look convinced.

Scott took a deep breath. Then, with both hands, he quickly reached down to grasp the bars where they joined the cement floor, intending to see if there was any give.

The voltage was enough that before Scott closed his hands around the bars of his own accord, the electricity did it for him. His hands cramped and clenched around the bars while the amps thumped through him. His muscles tensed and his body stiffened. His heart thudded painfully for several seconds. Scott gave a guttural groan, unable to open his mouth to let out a more telling expression of pain and unable to quell the impulse; his eyes flashed red in reaction. Almost as suddenly as it began, it was over. Just as darkness began to crowd his vision, Scott's amp-stricken body convulsed and was thrown backward, where he landed hard on the damp cement.

"Scott!" Liam was at his side in an instant. "You okay?"

Scott groaned and sat up slowly. Any real damage was already healing but lingering pain caused twinges. His hands still sported burn marks that faded slowly. Liam offered a hand and helped him to his feet.

"So I guess they aren't bluffing," Liam said sardonically.

"Yeah," Scott grunted sheepishly. "Guess not."

"What do we do now?" Worry clouded Liam's eyes.

Scott shook his head and stared out into the shadows beyond their cage.

"We're here for a reason," he said grimly, finally looking at Liam. "Looks like we have to wait to find out what that is."

"I was afraid you were going to say that."

* * *

"I'm sure Liam's okay," Kira reassured Mason with a glance as she drove.

Mason nodded but kept his eyes forward.

"Maybe his phone died...or something," Kira attempted lamely.

Mason shrugged one shoulder. "Yeah. Maybe."

Kira bit her lip and focused on the street before her while the silence stretched awkwardly.

"What about Scott? Do you think Scott's really okay?" Mason asked suddenly. "The way Stiles described his room..."

Kira covered a wince by turning her head to check for traffic from the intersecting street she was crossing.

Stiles' description hadn't left much to the imagination. Most of it had seemed involuntary, a babble effect induced by his initial panic once he'd had everyone together and relayed what he knew. It was precious little, unfortunately.

Kira's offer to accompany Mason to pick up Liam hadn't been solely based on goodwill toward the younger teen. She'd struggled with Stiles' gory description of her missing boyfriend's bedroom. The last thing she needed was to see it in person. Her worry for Scott was at a record high and Kira couldn't imagine that seeing his blood-soaked bedroom could in any way help that. In fact, she wanted to stay about as far away from it as possible. If that meant doing something else while those with the noses went back to the scene to find a traceable scent then she'd make herself useful elsewhere. She couldn't help track, anyway.

She pondered on Mason's question – did she think Scott was okay?

Scott was resilient. He was tough and stubborn. He was an Alpha. The True Alpha. He'd faced worse and come out okay. She couldn't bear to consider the alternative.

"He has to be," she answered him simply.

Mason stared at her as if expecting more but if he was, he was disappointed. Silently, he turned his eyes back to the passenger side window as if the passing scenery held life's answers.

"There," he said eventually, pointing. "Turn right here. Liam's house is on that corner."

Kira followed Mason's directions and pulled up into the empty driveway, eyeing the home. Not quite on the same opulent scale as Lydia's family's home but not too modest. Kira reminded herself that Liam's stepfather was a doctor. She wondered what his mother's job was.

"I can get in," Mason announced as he opened his door, pulling Kira from her useless thoughts. "I know where they keep the spare. I'm not supposed to know," he laughed, "but sometimes when we want a movie marathon I sneak over late at night. We started that back in sixth grade. It's easier for me to sneak past my parents than it is for him so he showed me the best way to get in a long time ago. I always have to wait until after eleven, though, when his parents go up to bed. Then I can unlock the door and sneak up to his room. We don't really have to sneak so much now, though. That was mostly when we were kids."

Kira smiled at him as he led the way to the side of the house and to a back gate. She got the sense that his sudden desire to talk was from nerves. She understood; they hadn't even reached the back door yet and the house gave off a definite vibe of being unoccupied. If Liam wasn't there and they continued to be unable to reach him...what did that mean? Was there a connection? Two of their friends missing instead of one?

She tried to push down her unease. They had no evidence of that. What they had was a teenage boy not answering his phone. Well...a teenage werewolf not answering his phone. Even though they always tried to stay available since every time one of them turned around something was trying to kill them.

No, Kira told herself firmly once more. She followed Mason into the backdoor that he'd successfully unlocked. There is no reason to go there yet. Not until we know.

Kira paid little attention to the interior of the house as she followed Mason's lead, her thoughts on more important things than admiring interior decorating. The bottom floor was empty and quiet, no signs of anyone home and Kira fought a case of the chills. Less than a minute after entering the back door they followed the carpeted stairway to the second floor. Mason knew where he was going and Kira stayed on his heels, almost tripping over him at one point.

Despite that the house was cheerily furnished and almost obsessively clean she became more and more uneasy as they proceeded. She couldn't pinpoint why. It wasn't the sort of environment that lent anything to a creep factor but she couldn't deny the goosebumps raised on her arms.

Maybe it was just being in someone's home without them. Maybe even unlawfully. Were they breaking and entering? She wondered as Mason called out for Liam as they approached the end of the hall. She followed Mason toward what must be Liam's bedroom door. It sported a poster of a lacrosse player that Kira wouldn't recognize from any other. Was it breaking and entering if you had a key? That would just be entering. Was entering against the law?

"Oh…." Mason uttered when he pushed the door open and stepped through. He stopped after one step and Kira bumped into him. "Oh, no."

Kira peered around him and sucked in a quick breath.

"They got him, too," Mason croaked. His eyes shone bright with panic when he looked back at Kira. She put a hand on his arm, maybe to steady him but to steady herself just as much.

"We have to call the others," she announced, pulling out her cell phone. "And maybe the sheriff," she added softly, trying not to stare at the smears of blood that marred the window.


	4. Chapter 4

Liam sat silently, legs crossed. He was cold but not overly much and for the first time, he felt that something about being a werewolf benefited him. He suspected that he'd be much colder if he wasn't one. But then, if he wasn't a werewolf he'd probably still be sleeping soundly in his warm bed at home instead of shivering in an electrified cage in some cold, damp building.

So much for finding a bright spot.

His eyes followed Scott as the older boy paced around the perimeter of their shared space. Scott's eyes never left the shadows outside of their cell as he walked back and forth and Liam mused that if he had never known that Scott was a werewolf, he would still clearly see the predator in him now. He wondered if he would be perceived the same way some day.

Scott had been pacing and watching in that manner for hours, seemingly tireless. Liam had sat, and paced, and sat some more. He'd even fallen asleep, curled up on the gritty floor when sleepiness and boredom had become persistent. He'd awakened to see Scott still stalking from corner to corner, peering out into the shadows as if to dare whoever might be shrouded to come forward and face him.

"Do you see anything out there?" Liam finally asked. They'd scarcely spoken since their short conversation when Scott first woke. Liam had been uncharacteristically low key and, he admitted reluctantly to himself, broody. Scott had been understandably preoccupied, almost obsessed with his repetitive pacing, and Liam had given him his space.

Scott had paused to inhale, searching for a scent, and at Liam's voice, he looked over his shoulder at the other boy. He gave a beckoning jerk of his head and said "C'mere."

Liam stood and stepped forward a few paces to stand next to Scott. He tensed when Scott put a hand on his shoulder but immediately relaxed, not liking how jumpy and tense he was. Scott pointed beyond into the gloom, careful not to let his hand get too close to the electrically charged bars.

"What do you see?" Scott asked.

Liam let his eyes wander for a moment then shrugged. "Shadows, shapes, darkness."

"Look closer," Scott insisted. "you can see better if you let yourself. Focus your sight. Let the wolf see."

Liam glanced at Scott uncertainly and his feet shifted, unsure. He was still learning to control the wolf inside with sad results, and he was not only doubtful that he could accomplish something as pinpointed as controlling one sense, but he was worried that he might lose control of it and shift. He didn't exactly have a good track record with control of any sort.

Scott nodded encouragingly and Liam turned his gaze back to the darkness.

"If I shift..."

"I'm here," Scott assured confidently. "There's no one here for you to hurt and I can handle it."

Liam was calmed by Scott's assurance but memories of his IED rages, those feelings that surged up within him that even he couldn't control, bombarded his mind. Most worryingly, though, was the never-ending guilt that he couldn't let go of.

No number of apologies could erase the things he said and did during his IED rages. The sincerest remorse couldn't erase the fear and worry in his mother's eyes and the disappointment furrowing his stepfather's brow for the unthinking words and rash acts that manifested because he couldn't control himself. Becoming a werewolf had amplified his lack of control, not helped it. In the couple months since Scott's bite, Liam could do nothing about the change forced upon him by the moon each month other than endure it in chains, but he lived in fear of the smallest slip causing a landslide that he wouldn't be able to hold back.

Scott moved behind Liam and his other hand landed on Liam's other shoulder. For support or restraint, Liam was not sure. "You can do it. It's easier than you think it is, but if you're worried that letting go a little bit will cause a shift, I can make you turn back."

"You can?"

"I'm your alpha." It seemed Scott believed the statement needed no explanation.

This was news. This was something that would be further explored later, Liam decided, when less pressing matters were a concern. Liam still had many questions about his new state. Some of his questions had been answered and some hadn't been. Yet. Some, apparently, had never been asked. Liam hadn't even considered wondering how Scott's place as his alpha would relate to him. Somehow in the process of mining for answers from Scott and Stiles about himself and his new nature, Liam had not considered asking about Scott. He knew Scott's bite was what had caused the change, and he knew that meant that Scott was his alpha. That had been the extent of his curiosity concerning Scott when Liam was preoccupied with wondering what was happening to himself, until recently. That was because, until recently, they'd had bigger things to worry about.

All that was for later, though. While he didn't know the specifics about what being an alpha meant, Liam trusted Scott. Lately, he'd come to the realization that he admired him, too, though he'd never openly admit it. He looked up to Scott and that had kind of sneaked up on Liam. And now Scott had asked him to do something that was very similar to the things he'd coached Liam in while trying to teach him what were apparently werewolf basics as if this was any routine day of training. Training that he'd be less than excellent at, to date.

Liam closed his eyes and took a deep steadying breath, then opened them. He let his eyes move from one dark corner to another. Eyes, eyes, eyes, he chanted to himself. How does one focus on one sense that is usually involuntary? he wondered, not for the first time, but just as the thought formed, the shapes in the darkness jumped into being.

Things that had been shrouded in shadows or completely unseen were now distinct objects that he could make out against the blackness. It was still dark; his enhanced eyesight could not provide light that wasn't already there. The dark had seemed thick before, but now the shadows slid away from anything with solid definition to let Liam see what lay beneath.

"I see...machines?" he suggested uncertainly. Not because he couldn't see them well enough, but because they were unfamiliar to him. He didn't know what they were or what functions they might provide.

He felt Scott's nod. "What else?"

Liam glanced around, this time seeing the building as a whole rather than vague and shadowy shapes. "Cages!" he said, surprised. "More cages, like this one. But I don't think anyone is in them," he added. Some of them were far enough away to challenge even his increased vision and he squinted in an attempt to see. At the far end of the building, he barely detected what looked like a large loading ramp descending out of large open doors. Their captors must have had a lot of faith in their seclusion and that the electric barrier would keep them contained.

He wasn't sure whether he was disappointed that they were alone in their predicament or glad to know that it wasn't currently happening to anyone else.

"Good," Scott said, and Liam was surprised at the how pleased he felt at Scott's praise. "Now tell me what you smell?"

This was easier and Liam was ready, more confident than he had been moments before. It seemed that deliberately enhancing his senses did not tempt a loss of control. He raised his head a little, nose in the air, and repeated his inner mantra of concentration. Nose, nose, nose.

"Well?" Scott prodded.

"Dust, mold," Liam answered quickly, the most prominent odors making themselves known. "Also...oil?"

"Yeah," Scott confirmed. "Probably machine oil for whatever ran this place. What else? Concentrate harder."

Liam noted something in Scott's voice that incurred a glance behind him at the older boy. Scott was waiting expectantly, waiting for something specific, something that Scott knew was there but that Liam had not found yet.

Liam turned back to the room and closed his eyes. He inhaled deeply once, getting nothing more than he had before. He glanced at Scott once again then raised his head a bit and inhaled deeper; his eyes flew open. "People! And...something strange, something that kind of smells like you. Other werewolves?"

Scott smiled and nodded his head. "Yes. There have been other people here, and other werewolves. It's faint, and slightly stale, which is why it wasn't easy for you to get right off. They're old scents, nothing too fresh. Days, at least, or more. But every now and then I get a scent that seems fresher, current."

Liam's eyes widened. "Like there's something else here?" he asked in a hushed tone, worried. "Hiding out there?" As had happened much too often recently, his mind conjured fleeting images of some of the other-worldly things he'd seen. Particularly the Berserkers, which was his own personal nightmare.

"No," Scott shook his head and Liam expelled a relieved breath. The last thing he needed now was something hiding in the dark. "Like there's someone here somewhere," Scott explained, "but not very close, and the wind is bringing it. Just whenever it blows the right way, I get a scent from that bay door or those windows." Scott's hands fell from Liam's shoulders and the alpha stepped up to stand next to Liam. He gestured to the high windows near the ceiling as he did so. Every pane was broken out of them but Liam couldn't detect much from that direction. He supposed that was the kind of skill one gained after being a werewolf for a while. Or maybe it was exclusive to Alphas. He'd have to ask Scott sometime, but not now. They had other things to worry about.

"What do you think they want with us?" It was supposed to sound casual but his fear betrayed him. The question came out sounding thin, the words quavery. He looked down quickly at Scott's searching look.

"We're gonna be okay, Liam. I promise."

"Yeah," Liam said quickly, not wanting Scott to focus too much on him and his fear. He forced bravery into his words. "I know."

"I don't know why we're here, and I'm sure we'll find out at some point. But we're going to get out of here."

Liam nodded, not trusting his voice, and it wasn't just because his mouth was dry and cottony. Something about Scott's kindness, the concern in his voice, the sincerity in his promise, had feelings welling up that he'd been stuffing down all night. He was scared. He was afraid of why someone had wanted him badly enough to steal him from his bedroom, he was afraid that they hadn't kept their promise about not harming his family. He was cold and hungry. He really had to pee.

When Liam was in junior high he and Mason had become addicted to those movies where the superhero or the good guys rescued the damsel who, usually, had been abducted and hidden away somewhere waiting for rescue.

Those movies never showed the hostage getting thirsty or having to pee.

"I wish we had a bathroom," he muttered. He refused to think of himself as a damsel, no matter how much distress he was in. Having to pee was a perfectly normal and manly thing.

"Over there," Scott pointed to one corner of their cell, obviously having heard Liam's complaint.

"A bucket?" Liam asked disbelievingly.

Scott shrugged. "I don't know if that's what it's supposed to be for but it was empty and it's here."

"Was empty?"

Another shrug, this time with an embarrassed smile. "I had to go, too. You were asleep."

Liam looked at the bucket doubtfully and heaved a sigh.

"I'll turn around," Scott offered. "So you can have some privacy." He did just that, turning his back and staring out into the factory as he had before.

Liam heaved another sigh as he approached the bucket. At least Scott had gone first, lessening Liam's own embarrassment a little.

"Hey, Liam?" Scott called to him, back still turned.

"Yeah?"

Scott paused, then said "Just be careful. You know...don't, um...well, the bars are electrified. Aim carefully, okay?"

"Oh, God," Liam muttered, his face flushing. To his relief, Scott said nothing else.

Liam was suddenly grateful it wasn't Stiles he was stuck with. Or, God forbid one of the girls. No way could he pee in a bucket five feet away from one of the girls. Just the thought made him falter mid-stream in imagined stage fright.

Liam was just finishing his business when Scott said "Looks like we're about to find out why we're here. We've got company."


	5. Chapter 5

Scott's bare feet were quiet on the cold concrete. He occasionally stepped on something hard or sharp but those were minor irritations from which he healed instantly. The dust their passage stirred up tickled his nose. His bare chest and arms were prickled with goosebumps. His escorts wore chill-cutting jackets and the cold was enough that even Scott's improved tolerance was not impervious. He didn't remember it being so cold when he went to bed.

He resisted the urge to look back, to give Liam one more encouraging glance. All he would see was his rear guard anyway. Besides, he decided, it won't help Liam for me to look worried.

Liam was already an anxious bundle of nerves and Scott had walked away with the sounds of Liam's rapid heartbeats and shallow breaths fading slowly behind. The scent of the beta's anxiety had assaulted Scott's sensitive nose in reeking waves. Scott didn't like being separated, either. Being separated always made things harder and usually ended badly. Scott's life was such that he now knew things like that from experience.

The unknown could be scary, but Liam's anxiety had seemed out of proportion given the lack of any real threat at the moment. They'd calmly been informed by one of the men that they were only there to take Scott to visit their boss. Scott had seen little choice but to comply, and as he was curious about who had taken them and why he'd cooperated with little protest. Scott wondered if perhaps he'd become jaded to immediate fear over the last year. Liam hadn't had the same level of experience facing fears that Scott had and he briefly wondered if Liam's reaction really was as disproportionate as he thought it was. Maybe it was Scott's own lack of real fear that was disproportionate. Rather than fear, what Scott felt was more a sense of caution... Caution that warred with curiosity.

Visit. That was the word they'd used as if he was going to pop in at a neighbor's to say hi. The fleeting ideas Scott had entertained of fighting his way out never came to fruition when he realized that Liam was in no way ready for something like that... Besides, the men had an advantage over Scott with their weapons. They carried the weapons in their hands like they'd done this before but the biggest weapon they had was the knowledge that Scott could be dangerous and they behaved accordingly. They'd even made Liam put the shackles and cuffs on him, padlocks and all, rather than getting close enough to do it themselves.

Scott walked between the formation of men – one on either side, one before him and one behind. The ankle shackles clanked at his feet and the thick cuffs were heavy on his wrists. Each man carried a heavy-duty electric rod; they were taking no chances. The familiarity of their careful method resonated with Scott. This was definitely not new to them.

The man that walked three feet behind Scott kept clicking the power button on his baton, letting it buzz sharply on and off. It might have been a threat or a warning but Scott didn't think so. As Liam's anxiety faded it was replaced by the sour odor of fear that wafted from guard number four when Scott turned his head to the side just right, catching the scent from over his shoulder. He could hear how the man's heart added a couple of extra beats to its rhythm any time Scott moved just a bit too abruptly.

More likely it was an attempt at intimidation because the clear signs of fear didn't match the smug look the man had pasted on his face. Scott's attention had been drawn by the three men who were clear threats, enough so that he'd overlooked the one who hadn't screamed 'danger' to his wolf's senses.

He certainly wasn't as smart as the other three men in their formation, who held themselves relaxed but ready, watchful and confident. The nervous man behind was stupid, Scott concluded. Unlike the other three men, he walked too closely and held his weapon in what seemed an imitation of menace rather than with skilled readiness.

That was probably why they'd put him behind Scott.

I could be on him before he knew I'd even turned on him, Scott thought. He squashed the temptation soundly. Liam was still locked away back in their little prison and Scott wasn't comfortable with the idea of an escape attempt while they were separated. Besides, even if he was successful in taking down the overly-eager nervous man, there would be the three others to contend with and he knew instinctively that they wouldn't go down so easily.

Not yet. The time would come but this wasn't it. They'd probably only get one good chance at escape and it had done right.

When Scott followed his guards out of the stale building he was greeted with bright afternoon glare. He appreciatively sucked in a lungful of clean air. The dust and mold had been more unpleasant over the hours than he'd realized, clogging his sinuses and inhibiting the full use of his powerful nose the longer he'd been breathing it in. Dust had caked the dried blood on his skin, leaving an uncomfortable filth. The fresh air was welcome.

But the cold! Why was it so cold? His bare feet crunched stiff frost underneath, startling him upon his first steps outside of the building. It had definitely not been that cold 12 hours ago.

Beacon Hills, situated in Northern California, had plenty of forests and no coast. Their winters were cooler than one would find in So-Cal, usually downright cold for at least a few months. But when Scott had gone to bed the night before it had been a mildly cool but perfectly pleasant late Spring evening. The perfect sort of night to sit by a bonfire and enjoy Spring Break with his friends.

Scott looked at his surroundings with deeper attention. There was a thin layer of ice over each limb and boulder. There were patches of snow in the shade and shallower puddles of slush where the sun shone. The trees were different, he realized immediately. Scott had little knowledge of the physical differences between one kind of tree and another, definitely less knowledge than he should have for someone who spent so much time in Beacons Hills' local preserve. But he knew that those he was now seeing were different than the trees he saw every day, and they smelled different, too. While the exact location was not familiar to Scott, the terrain was. He had been taking camping trips further north, into the mountains, with Stiles and his dad for years.

That could only mean one thing, Scott realized with a chill working its way into the pit of his stomach. They were not in Beacon Hills. And if they weren't in Beacon Hills, then where the hell were they?

* * *

Liam watched as Scott was led away by four men, each holding their weapon with varying degrees of readiness. Two seemed comfortable, one seemed tense but ready. The fourth held his in a tight-knuckled grip that spoke of uncertainty, maybe even fear, but his face had the cast of excitement to it, or so it seemed to Liam. That was the man he disliked the most, Liam decided. That was the man that had lit his baton in warning when Liam had hesitated in shackling Scott when they had tossed the chains to the floor at his feet.

It had frightened him, Liam would admit to that, even if only to himself, and not only because the man seemed hopeful for a chance to painfully encourage compliance. Liam had learned that electricity weakened the wolf inside of him, but more than that, it hurt like hell. He winced at the memory of the few excruciating jabs it had taken for his abductors to overpower him at his home.

Liam had been prepared to refuse their demand again, warning be damned. It was only Scott's nod and confident 'Do it, Liam' that had spurred him into complying, but he felt some guilt that he'd been relieved not to have to make the choice.

 _You shouldn't feel guilty for being afraid_ , his traitorous inner voice tried to convince him. _Being afraid of pain is a_ good _thing._

 _Not as a werewolf_ , he argued back. Pain was often the only thing that pulled him back from the brink of losing control when his inner wolf tried to take over. Scott had taught him that little trick. Of course, that was quite a bit different than pain being unwillingly inflicted upon him by others.

Liam sighed as Scott disappeared through the door of their building. Moments later the clinking of Scott's thick iron hindrances faded away as well. Backing away to what he'd already begun to think of as his corner, Liam lowered himself to the damp floor and rested his elbows on his knees. He refused to let his concerns shape themselves into full thoughts. If he even considered for one moment that he was going to be left there alone, in the dark, that they weren't going to be bringing Scott back...it wasn't a possibility he could bear. Instead, with wide eyes scanning the dark shadows beyond his cage, Liam pushed the thoughts down and waited.

 _Please let them bring him back_.

* * *

Scott was woefully under-dressed, to judge by his host, and by that, he meant the sheer amount of clothing, not fashion. The man he stood before sat behind a sturdy desk. Even in the warmth of the room, the man wore layers. A flannel shirt topped a t-shirt and a thick khaki jacket lay over that. Even still, Scott thought that the man might have been fighting back shivers.

The heat had felt divine upon first entering. The hours in the damp and cold been enough to chill Scott into stiffness. It had taken only moments in the warm room, however, for the warmth to begin to feel stuffy and suffocating. Wearing only sweatpants, without shoes or shirt, Scott was already too hot. The stink of cleaning chemicals layered over those of sweat and body odor and the unpleasant combination lay heavy on the overheated air. It wasn't long before Scott felt that he was struggling for a clean breath and he longed to be able to go back outside in the cold where he could breathe in the fresh air.

He was also filthy. The office he'd been escorted to was pristine, a somewhat impressive feat given that it was within another long-deserted building, the rest of which was not in much better condition than the building Scott had been escorted from. But pains had been taken to make this little office into a comfortable and functional space. Scott's feet left blood and debris and wet prints on the patterned rug that covered the bare concrete and he was too aware that he was barely dressed; sweat, dried blood, and dirt adorned the rest of his body, while his sweatpants were damp and dirty. A couple awkward moments of his mother's ingrained manners flitted through his mind – mustn't dirty his host's floor – before anger took its place. He was here because of this man. A dirty floor was the least comeuppance he had coming to him.

"True Alpha Scott McCall."

It wasn't a question. This man knew who he was.

Of course he did. He'd wanted Scott for a reason, and whatever the reason was, he'd have to know who Scott was to know what he wanted from him.

"Who are you?" Scott asked. "What do you want? Why am I here?"

The man's chair creaked as he leaned back. Sharp eyes evaluated the young werewolf standing before him. There was intelligence in those eyes, Scott decided. Intelligence and something that seemed very much like indifference.

"You may call me Mr. Cross. As for why you're here? I have a proposal for you."

"A proposal? You could have done that without coming into my home, threatening my mom, kidnapping my friend and forcing us to come here."

"Yes. I could have." The man – _Mr. Cross_ , Scott reminded himself – narrowed his gaze. "But then you would have had very little motivation to give it some thought, yes?"

Mr. Cross paused, possibly waiting for a reply. Scott simply stared, his own eyes beginning to burn with anger. People often underestimated Scott as lacking in intelligence and maybe he could be obtuse at times. He certainly wasn't on the same level as Lydia or even Stiles and he could admit that. But he was smart enough to understand that any proposal offered by this man was going to be nothing more than a demand that he had the leverage to enforce.

Mr. Cross let the silence go on for half a minute and Scott was not tempted once to fill it. Let the man lead the conversation. He was the one who'd brought him to this place. Scott was not going to help him nor make it easy.

"Would you care to hear the proposal?" Mr. Cross finally asked, mild amusement coloring his tone.

"Isn't that why I'm here?" Scott asked neutrally.

Mr. Cross smiled. It didn't reach his eyes and seemed to Scott that it held all the friendliness of the hungry grin of a shark. "Yes. It is."

* * *

"This isn't working," Stiles snapped in frustration.

Malia shook her head with a scowl on her face. "I know it's this way. I know it is."

"Forget it," Derek growled. "We know he was put in a vehicle because we lost his scent just where we picked up the scent of one. But we've tracked it as far as we can. There's no way we can distinguish their vehicle from any other here on the highway. It's gone."

"DAMMIT!" Stiles screamed to the clouds before he threw an ineffectual punch to Rosco's hood. He immediately hissed with pain and cradled his bleeding knuckles.

"Feel better?" Derek asked sardonically.

"A little, yeah," Stiles snapped back. He did feel a bit guilty about venting his frustration on his trusty jeep, though. Where was a bad guy or murderous creature when you needed something to punch?

Lydia glared at Derek while she rummaged between the seats of the jeep. Sliding back out she handed Stiles a wad of fast food napkins.

"Thanks," Stiles muttered while Derek huffed his trademark exasperated sigh.

"Look," Lydia started, pulling the attention of all three of them. "We're all worried and frustrated, but we're wasting time. This is obviously a dead end so we have to try something else."

"Like what?" Malia asked bluntly.

Stiles would like to know that, too, because he was fresh out of ideas.

Lydia shrugged. "We'll have to figure that out."

"Great," Stiles muttered just under his breath but he was saved by any retort from any of the others by the ringing of his cell phone. He fumbled to answer it with his sore hand and noted that it was Kira.

"Hey," he answered. "Did you find….wait…what?"

Half a minute later, as he put his phone back into his pocket, Stiles looked at the faces watching him. Derek's thinned lips indicated that he, at least, had heard the other end of the conversation and Lydia had a tight grip on Malia's arm.

"Our problem just got bigger, guys," Stiles informed them needlessly.

* * *

"This changes things," Stiles announced, pacing across the floor of Derek's loft thirty minutes later. They'd reconvened to regroup and Derek's place had been the most sensible location to retreat to under the circumstances.

"How?" Malia asked with a frown. "Scott's still gone. Now Liam is too but nothing else has really changed. We were already looking for Scott. Now we just have two to get back instead of one."

Stiles sometimes wished he was able to see things as simply and directly as Malia did. Instead, his thoughts fractured into a million little pieces and he had to try to catch each fleeting piece, put them together into plans and strategies and then try to make sense of them. Each little piece could lead to a hundred different scenarios.

Most people said he was smart and he knew he was - not arrogance, just fact - but they didn't have to be inside his head to make sense of it all. They got the finished product when he spouted it out. It might scare them to know that what they thought of as critical planning and clever ideas started out like so many shards of glass that had to be swept up and sorted carefully and rapidly into a mosaic that began to show the big picture.

For Malia, living her solitary life as a coyote for so long had given her a one track mind. Decide what needed to be done and survive doing it. The little intricacies often eluded her. Not because she wasn't smart enough for them but because they simply didn't matter to her. A coyote didn't stay fed by taking the time to deliberate about the best way to approach its prey and then trying to come up with three more possibilities in case the first didn't work. A hungry coyote saw its prey and went after it, following instinct to get the job done.

Malia didn't live in the forests anymore, but she still had a lot to learn. At least she didn't try to kill people as often.

Progress.

"And we still have no idea about how to do either one of those things," Kira added, bringing Stiles back to the problems at hand.

"Do you think Scott and Liam are together?" Mason asked.

"Most likely," Lydia said with confidence. "It would be too much a coincidence otherwise."

"I don't believe in coincidence," Stiles replied automatically.

"They're together." Derek sounded very sure. "I got the same scents from Liam's bedroom as I did from Scott's. Not all were the same exact people but there were a couple that were at both locations."

"That doesn't mean they're together," Kira pointed out. "It just means they were taken by the same people."

"That's a good point," Stiles complimented with raised brows. He hadn't considered that possibility but they had no idea who had Scott and Liam or why. It was easy to assume that they were together, having been taken by the same people, but without knowing the abductor's intentions there was no real way to be completely sure.

"What if…" Mason began, then trailed off with uncertainty.

"What if what?" Lydia urged.

"What if they're not through?" Mason asked, looking from face to face. "I mean, we know it's not just about Scott now because they took Liam. What if they're targeting all of us? Or just the werewolves?" He looked at Derek. "Or any of the not-just-humans of us?" He finished with a glance at Kira.

Heavy glances were exchanged. They had been so focused on how to locate their missing friends they hadn't yet considered that the abductors' motives might not stop with Scott and Liam.

Stiles cursed himself for the oversight. Any one of them could have been in danger and they'd never even considered it.


	6. Chapter 6

Liam paced his cage much as Scott had before, staring in the direction Scott had been taken. At first concern warred with impatience but eventually, his concern blossomed into something close to fear. He couldn't stop his brain from manufacturing worst-case scenarios, which might have been humorous under other circumstances.

How much worst-case could things get than being kidnapped and held in a dirty, electrified cage?

Unfortunately, Liam's imagination provided plenty of creative alternatives.

The worst of those scenarios all involved Scott not being brought back so it was with a heavy sigh of relief that Liam detected new scents – one of them Scott's – before he heard them approaching the outside of the building from the direction they'd gone before.

Not long after, Liam retreated backward from the door of the cage when the over-anxious guy with the baton gestured that he do so. Scott stood with a stony face and holding a wrapped bundle in his arms. A flick of a remote at the box high up on the wall and the sub-audible buzz of the electricity ceased. Electric batons were held in threat as Scott was unshackled, the door was opened and Scott was pushed in. Without a word, the formation of men that had ushered Scott turned and left.

"You okay?" Liam asked him. Scott seemed to be fine, no worse off than when he'd been taken away.

"I'm fine," Scott confirmed. "Just had a little chat with our host."

"Did you find out what we're doing here?"

"Yeah."

Liam felt a shudder of trepidation at Scott's somber answer. He wasn't sure he wanted to know but it had to be better than _not_ knowing.

Just as he was about to press Scott for further information, Scott reached somewhere in the middle of his bundle and pulled out a bottle of water and tossed it to Liam, who caught it greedily. He had become uncomfortably aware of a burgeoning thirst while waiting for Scott to be returned. It wasn't unbearable yet but was it definitely unpleasant and he had tried not to let himself wonder what they would do without a water source in their electrical cell.

"What's that?" Liam gestured at what resembled a bedroll that Scott cradled in his arms.

"Some things that might make us a little more comfortable."

Liam looked around their cell with a judging eye.

He hoped Scott had a shower, an air mattress, a TV and a buffet wrapped up in that bundle.

Hell. He'd be happy for a toilet.

Liam twisted the cap off of his water and sucked down half the bottle while Scott unrolled the rest of the items he'd returned with.

They'd been provided two blankets reminiscent of something Liam had seen in his grandfather's WWII trunk, thin and scratchy and infused with an unpleasant odor. He didn't care. If it helped cut the chill of the frosty air that was cool enough for him to see his breath on, he'd have gladly taken anything he'd been offered.

There were a few more bottles of water and several granola bars. Liam wasn't sure if he was glad about that or not. They had sustenance, at least, meager as it might be. Also, you didn't give food and water to someone that you didn't plan on keeping alive, right?

You also didn't give food and water to captives that you planned to let go any time soon, either, Liam's more negative little voice reminded him. That was the voice he'd begun calling his damsel-voice. The one that brought up only the negatives and acted like a victim. The voice that was hoping for someone to save him. He was quick to shut that voice down. It never had anything good to say and he had no desire to sit back uselessly and wait for rescue. _Only positive thoughts from now on, Liam_ , he promised himself.

Last in the bundle were towels. There were four of them and they were not very big. They were the same size as the frilly decorative towels his mom liked to hang in the kitchen and the bathrooms for drying their hands. These weren't nearly as decorative, which was a good thing because Liam didn't think they were going to be used for anything as mannerly as clean hands.

"I talked him into giving us something we could use to clean up a little," Scott confirmed, gesturing at his own torso where the dried blood flaked. "Here," Scott offered, tossing Liam one of the towels.

"Thanks." While not one of their most urgent concerns, it would be nice to get rid of as much of the grime and old dust that coated his face and arms as he could. He looked around absently for a moment before his eyes settled on the bottles of water Scott had set on the floor. "I guess we have to use some of those."

Scott's brow furrowed before he reached down for one bottle. "I don't know how long these have to last and I don't know if we'll get more when it's gone," he admitted seriously. "We're gonna have to be careful, okay? We'll use one bottle between the two of us now for cleaning up. The rest we should ration."

Liam nodded in agreement.

Being kidnapped was definitely not as exciting as they made it look in the movies.

"So…?" Liam couldn't hide his impatience as he eyed Scott expectantly.

Scott sighed as he carefully dampened one small towel. He handed it to Liam in silence, then wet another for himself before he spoke.

"We're here to survive, Liam," Scott answered cryptically. "Just remember that. No matter what happens."

The hair along Liam's arms raise and he broke out in chills. This time it wasn't just from the cold.


	7. Chapter 7

"So now what?" Mason asked.

Two days. Two full days and nothing they'd come up with had gotten them any further than they were, which was basically a stand-still. Two days of asking the same questions, talking to the same people, throwing out the same ideas.

They'd exhausted every avenue they'd collectively come up with only to be no closer to a solution than they had when they'd started. They simply had no information. Stiles couldn't help but feel that it was time wasted when they should have been more mobile, more active. It was rare that they didn't have some nugget to go on within a short time. Research to get to, some relevant questions to answer and an avenue or two to find those answers.

Nothing.

Stiles would give anything right now to have someone or something to chase down. It would mean that they were a step closer to their goal.

Their goal being, this time, to find his missing best friend- who had better still be alive if he knew what was good for him- and his best friend's pain-in-the-ass beta. He half-grudgingly decided that Liam had better be alive, too. But especially Scott.

God, he was tired. So tired he could barely think coherently. He'd read somewhere that for each night that you got less than seven hours of sleep it took so much time off of your life-span. He didn't remember the exact numbers but Stiles thought that at this rate, he'd be dead before he got to college.

Beacon Hills was going to kill him one way or another.

He rubbed both hands over his face vigorously. There was no time for sleep yet.

"I think I'll head over to Oak Creek," Derek announced from his corner after reading a new text. He stood and grabbed up his trademark leather jacket. "Deaton says Satomi is back in town. She might know something we don't. She usually has her ear to the ground."

"I'll talk to my dad again," Stiles decided wearily. He doubted it would do much good but at this point their options were limited. Limited to zero. "I don't know how he managed to explain to Liam's dad that he knew Liam was gone before his own parents did but they're not happy and they're asking questions. Maybe I can help him come up with something to appease them for now so he can focus more on actually helping us find them."

His most recent conversation with his dad had revealed precious little that would help but one just never knew what would pop up unannounced.

"I'll go with you," Malia offered.

Stiles nodded. There was no real point to it but there wasn't anything else for her to do until they got a clue or a God-given sign or something to fight. Maybe they could even catch a quick nap at his house.

"I think..." Kira hesitated then began again just a little more certain. "I think I'll head to Scott's house. There's something I want to check out. Lydia, would you come with me?"

Lydia's eyebrows rose but she asked no questions. "Sure. I don't have any better ideas of my own."

"What kind of idea?" Derek asked, still waiting impatiently for them to exit his loft, jacket still hanging from one hand.

Kira gnawed on her lip and shook her head a moment later. "Nothing yet. Just something I want to look into. It's probably nothing."

Derek frowned but said nothing.

Stiles almost pressed her for more but she didn't look very sure of what she was saying even as she said it. Probably it was one of those vague hunches that he'd followed dozens of times himself. Either it turned out to be something or it turned out to be nothing, no in-between. If it turned out to be something Kira would make sure everyone knew. If it was nothing, no sense in wasting time and precious nap-seconds waiting for her to figure out how to explain what was probably a muddled, sleep-deprived idea that wouldn't make any sense at all later when they had a chance to look at it with fresh minds.

They filed out of the loft and headed their separate ways with promises to keep each other updated and to get at least a couple hours of sleep while they could. Experience had taught most of them that not only might they need to be at their best at some point -what little their best usually presented – but that anything could happen at any moment to give them the information they needed to send them careening down a path fraught with violence and fear and death-defying.

One usually needed at least a nap to deal with that kind of thing.

Stiles and Malia were halfway to the Sheriff's station when Stiles realized that Mason had barely said a word the entire time they'd been in the loft. While the rest of them had split up for their vague and self-appointed tasks, Mason had quietly left on his own. Stiles wondered if anyone else had noticed the younger teen slip away.

* * *

"You're sure you don't feel anything?" Kira asked.

Lydia gave her a sideways look. "Like what?"

"I don't know. _Anything_."

"You do know that whenever I feel something it usually ends in finding a dead body, right? I'm pretty sure that's not what we want right now."

"I know. But I mean, we don't really know exactly how you work, right? Maybe you have some kind of...something."

"Like a barometer for anything other than dead bodies?" Lydia tried to keep her tone neutral. Find a few bodies lying around town and suddenly people thought that anytime she needed to find something or know something all they had to do was drag her around and she'd eventually ping, like a metal detector finding a lost earring. She was a mystery even to herself but she was pretty sure that if she had the ability to do that she'd have done it by now.

Kira's face was a clear apology. "I'm sorry. It's just..." she shook her head as her words trailed off and she bit at her bottom lip, something that Lydia noticed was beginning to leave it's mark.

"What do _you_ feel?" Lydia asked curiously. She tilted her head to the side as she regarded the other girl.

Kira held her arms around herself as if she were cold but there was a fine sheen of sweat on her forehead and stippling her upper lip.

Kira hesitated before admitting "I'm not really sure."

"But you feel something."

"This is the third time I've been here since last night," Kira said to Lydia's surprise.

Kira had initially expressed reluctance to see Scott's room any time the others had found reason to stop by to follow up on a random idea or to look, once again, for something they might have missed the first several times.

"When I was at Liam's house that first time with Mason I had this really weird feeling," Kira went on to explain. "I went back a few hours later just to see if...I don't know...if it was something? It was this creepy feeling, like I was being watched but also like spider webs brushed my skin every time I moved. It was strongest in Liam's bedroom. It didn't feel normal so I went back later to see if it still felt the same. It did."

"Have you told this to anyone else?" Lydia asked.

Kira shook her head.

"Why not? It might mean something!"

"At first I wasn't sure. I didn't want to waste time on some mysterious feeling that I figured would turn out to be just the heebie jeebies. But I couldn't get it out of my mind. So last night I decided I should try it here, too."

"And it's the same here?" Lydia asked. She moved over and sat on the edge of Scott's bare mattress. Melissa was not staying at the house for the sake of safety but she'd clearly attempted clean-up before she left. Lydia didn't want to imagine what that might have been like for her, to strip her son's blood-spattered bedding from his bed.

Kira nodded. "That's why I kept coming back here last night,, trying to make sense of it. It's the same."

"So you decided to ask me to come along to see if I sense anything, as well," Lydia summarized concisely.

Kira nodded.

"I don't," Lydia sighed and shook her head. "I don't know if it would matter if I did. I usually don't know what it means until it's too late." That wasn't self-pity. It was simply fact. "Maybe it's a Kitsune thing."

"I thought of that," Kira admitted, "but I was kind of hoping it wasn't."

Lydia could relate to that frame of mind, though she couldn't imagine that Kira's reasons would be the same as her own. Kira wasn't cursed with predicting death and finding bodies. Lydia could think of a few other things she'd rather be able to do if she was destined to be given any sort of power.

"So if it is," Lydia asked, "how do we find out what it is?"

Kira sighed with resignation. "I think I have to talk to my mom."

* * *

Scott stared at the other man. _No_ , he corrected himself, _the other werewolf_. The older werewolf stared back and let his eyes flash for just a moment. Red. Alpha red. Had Scott had to place his age it would be hard to be accurate. There wasn't much to see under the greasy hair hanging almost to his shoulders and half obscuring his eyes. A full beard covered the lower half of his face.

But his eyes, what Scott could see of them, had creases in the corners. Fine lines traced his upper cheeks before they disappeared under the unkempt and graying facial hair. Scott couldn't guess how old the man was, but he was certainly well older than him.

As the stranger stared back, Scott wondered for a moment if that was sympathy he saw in the gaze.

"We don't have to do this," Scott tried to persuade. "We can find another way."

Scott's voice was almost drowned out by the screaming spectators but his opponent heard him just fine. The crowd on the outside of the enclosed arena were greedy, rabid and impatient.

"There is no other way." The voice was rough, gravelly. Underused, Scott guessed, sounding like a sore throat working it's way back to usefulness.

"We'll find one. I always do."

A small shake of the head. Greasy hair swayed; unwashed odor assaulted Scott's nose. Wary eyes flicked to a scowling man just outside of the arena who was staring at him with hard eyes.

"Sorry, kid," was all the warning Scott got before the other alpha sprang at him with a roar.

Scott roared back and met claws with claws.


	8. Chapter 8

Noshiko listened quietly as her daughter spoke. She held herself still but inside she was anything but calm.

She and her husband were aware of the activities Kira had been involved in since she'd befriended the local teen alpha. Most of them. She suspected there were many things they didn't know. Because the things they knew about already scared Noshiko so badly, she was pretty sure she didn't want to know the rest.

Kira had been hard to console when her boyfriend's disappearance had been discovered but she'd hardly been seen since then. The alpha's pack were no doubt offering due diligence in finding him and Kira was, whether her parents liked it or not, called one of the pack by the odd combination of teenagers that were associated with it. Kira had been less than manageable since she'd met Scott and his friends.

Noshiko was reminded much of herself at the same age.

Kira was growing up but she was still young. Very young. She hadn't received her first tail and wouldn't for such a long while yet. Kira should not yet be fighting the battles she had embroiled herself in since they'd arrived in Beacon Hills. She was inexperienced and her fox was volatile. She had no control yet. But she had power and it was growing because she was aware of it.

A growing power without control headed nowhere but disaster.

Damn whatever curse it was that had drawn Noshiko to the town full of supernatural.

Kira's power made her brave. It made her fierce. It made her foolish.

Kira was learning to run full on into danger and she would not stop when one of her friends needed saving. Nothing Noshiko could do would convince her daughter that this was a losing battle. That this was dangerous. That she wasn't ready.

Yes. Noshiko saw herself more than ever in her daughter.

Kira and her red-haired friend left the house with Noshiko's reluctantly-given information based on her centuries of knowledge and experience. They left with a new determination, infused with energy at a first clue.

Noshiko feared for her daughter. Kira was not ready to face one of their own.

* * *

Mason breezed into the busy hospital on a mission. No one was staying at the McCall house, as it was currently deemed a crime scene as well as unsafe for the remaining occupant. It had shocked Mason to realize that he had no idea where Ms. McCall might be if not at her home. He hoped someone closer to her than himself had at least taken the time to find out where she was staying. Until then, Mason knew of only one other place where he'd always been able to find her before.

He'd thought himself foolish, at first, for even considering that she'd be at work just a couple days after her son had been forcibly abducted from their home, but he was vindicated when he asked the first person he saw and was told that she was there somewhere.

Melissa McCall and the Beacon Hills hospital just went together. It seemed unnatural to think that she might not have been there, regardless of the circumstances. He was sure she went home sometime but he'd seen her in the hospital far more often than he'd ever seen her in the McCall house.

That bothered him somehow but he wasn't sure if it was because of an indication of how little she was home or because of how often he was at the hospital.

Mason scoured the halls. He peeked into every open room, then traversed the same halls again in case she had been in a closed room during his first trip. He took a trip to the cafeteria in case she was on her dinner break. He almost hung around the closest women's lavatory just in case but he started getting hostile and suspicious glares from the ladies coming and going and decided that if Ms. McCall was still in there, she was best left alone.

Just as Mason was considering who he could call who would best know where she might be – Stiles, maybe? - he looked up and saw her far down the hall he'd walked three times already. He only saw her from the back and she quickly disappeared into a door that closed behind her, but he was positive it was Ms. McCall.

Mason rushed down the hall and began scanning the doors. From the distance, it hadn't been clear which room she'd gone into but he knew the general area; approximately halfway down the hall. Most of the doors were already open and a quick glance into each easily eliminated them as possibilities. That left three. Two patient rooms and a utility closet.

She had to be in one of the two patient rooms and only one was on the side of the hallway she'd disappeared into. Mason put his hand on the doorknob and quietly began easing the door open. He realized belatedly that perhaps he should have knocked but it was too late now. He expected to be met with surprised sets of eyes and a reprimand from Melissa about invading the privacy of a patient, but at least he'd have found her.

To his own surprise, there was none of that. The room was dim, only the TV casting a faint glow. A figure in the bed snored lightly. Otherwise, the room was empty.

Mason's brow furrowed in confusion as he eased the door shut with a faint click. He tilted his head at the other closed door across the hall. It was the only other patient room she could have gone into, but she hadn't been on that side of the hall. That meant…

Mason glanced at the utility closet next to the room he'd just checked and, ignoring the EMPLOYEES ONLY sign, opened the door quietly. He'd almost decided no one was in there when he heard a horrifying sound.

Someone was crying.

He stepped further into the room slowly, glancing around in concern. "Ms. McCall?"

Melissa glanced up at him, her fist holding a crumpled tissue to her mouth. Her eyes were not surprised; instead, they were filled with anguish and, for just a second, hope.

Mason shook his head, instinctively guessing what she hoped for, and hated himself for making it disappear.

"Are you okay?"

That was probably the stupidest question he'd ever asked.

Melissa stared at him for a moment before shaking her head. Mason sat next to her on an unopened box in the enclosed space.

He was silent, unsure what to say to Scott's mom. He couldn't offer her hope or a promise. He couldn't offer her solace.

He barely knew her. There were others better suited to being with her in a time of fear and tears. But he was the one who had come looking.

Mason glanced up at her, wishing he knew how to make her pain go away. He'd been drawn to find her for some reason. He'd wanted to check on her. But now that he'd found her, he had no idea what to do.

He reached out a tentative hand and set it awkwardly on her shoulder. Her fist pressed harder to her lips. She lifted her other hand from her lap and laid it on top of his on her shoulder and she cried.

Mason didn't hold her and she didn't hug him, but Melissa did not cry alone for the first time since Scott had disappeared.

* * *

Liam sat cross-legged in what had become his corner. An elbow rested on each knee and his chin was propped up by his hands. He stared morosely through the bars of their cage.

It wasn't the same cage they'd awakened in days before but it might as well have been. It was the same size and shape. The same bars. The same electrical backup. But they'd been moved from the lone cage in the large empty building to another building with many similar cages, several of which were occupied. Every cage held a pair; an alpha werewolf and someone the alpha cared about. Usually a beta but sometimes a human or werewolf family member. Liam wondered how he'd rated abduction with Scott over his mom then felt immediate guilt for thinking it.

Liam shifted on his dirty blanket and the new collar chafed against his neck. Both he and Scott had been fitted with the tight accessory not long after Scott's first meeting with Mr. Cross. They'd been warned that the collars were electrified and it had been painfully demonstrated to dispel any doubt. The memory of the body-convulsing pain was usually enough to keep Liam from behaving too obstinately.

Usually.

A thick fold of the blanket bunched uncomfortably underneath him but he didn't care enough to readjust it or himself. He half-listened to the sounds around him but not with enough intent to hear anything. He'd almost gotten used to the overwhelming odor of unwashed bodies and seeping, half-healed wounds. Anger and despair and hunger and desperation was the bouquet that spiced it all.

Boredom had become Liam's biggest complaint, most especially when they'd take Scott away. Sometimes he almost wished they'd take him instead, but he always changed his mind when he saw Scott's condition on his return. If Scott didn't always win, Liam didn't think he'd have half a chance. Not against alphas.

Just as Liam heaved a heavy sigh, praying for Scott's return, the far doors slid open with a whoosh of fresh air. He sucked in as much of that air as he could, wishing as he always did that their confinement was closer to the doors.

Liam slowly rose to his feet and stepped as close as he dared to the humming bars. He tried rubbernecking around the cages and pillars that obstructed his view to see if it was Scott they were bringing back.

It was and it was a painful sight.

Scott's feet dragged as he was prodded forward by the batons. Fresh blood dripped and unhealed wounds seeped. Liam knew, now, that even an alpha healed slowly from the wounds of another alpha. It was one of the lessons he'd learned lately.

The chains between Scott's ankles and his wrists clanked morbidly, syncing with the odors and dankness of the surrounding environment and the sounds of pain and despair as fittingly as it would have in a medieval dungeon. The longer chain connecting the wrist shackles to his collar bumped heavily against Scott's bloodied chest.

This one was bad. Liam stood and began what had become his ritual upon Scott's returns from the arena. He spread each of their blankets, one atop the other, in a pallet of pseudo-comfort on the damp concrete floor. Next was the water. This Liam did as covertly as possible. Not all of the visiting werewolves 'keepers' were as accommodating as the man Scott called Mr. Cross. Scott and Liam had to ration their supplies but at least they got some. They were less malnourished and less desperate – relatively speaking – than most of the others that came and went randomly.

No one could have accosted Liam for the bottle of water he quietly pulled from it's hidden spot under the towels. They were kept apart by their various manners of confinement. Bars for some and chains for others. But Liam moved discreetly and kept his eyes down anyway.

It wasn't fear. It was guilt. You could only take so much of another man's pleas for a sip of water before it hurt too hard to hear them. But not quite hurtful enough for him to risk ending up in the same situation and sharing with all those who were in need. Not after that first time he'd tossed a bottle of water to a nearby ragged woman in chains. They'd had to go almost two days without water themselves because it had been their second to last bottle, the other one only half full. It was meant to last a couple more days before they would be given more.

Holding the bottle close in with the intention of hiding it from hopeful eyes, Liam tipped it and let a little dribble onto a semi-clean towel. Just enough so that it was just a little more than damp.

He laid it next to the thin pallet, along with two of the granola bars. One was his but Scott would need it more and Liam didn't mind missing dinner on the fight days to give Scott the energy he'd need to heal well.

As much energy as a wounded and hungry werewolf could get from two granola bars, anyway. Scott would refuse more than that no matter how bad off he was so their rations didn't dwindle too rapidly.

Scott's chains were removed and he was pushed through the cage door where Liam took over. He helped Scott to the blankets on the floor and helped him settled in the least painful position.

As he wiped a strip of his forehead clean of blood, Liam asked quietly "Did you kill them?"

Scott's eyes jerked to a corner, anguish evident, before he closed them and turned his head away.

"I wouldn't be here if they were alive."


End file.
